


america

by angryjane



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Book 2: Wayward Son, Depressed Simon Snow, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, POV Simon, POV Simon Snow, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Post-Canon, Simon Snow's Wings and Tail, Sort Of, Spoilers for Book 2: Wayward Son, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, soft idiots, tm - Freeform, wayward son destroyed me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 05:30:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21010529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angryjane/pseuds/angryjane
Summary: The ending we all needed for Wayward Son.





	america

**Author's Note:**

> so. wayward son destroyed me, as it did you. i need to read it a second time bc i absorbed the whole thing in six hours last night. we gotta go thru this shit again bc i haven't processed it all... ow
> 
> the song included at the end is america by xylo. [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6YL4DcO0Frk) [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/557KWxa3o2DHiCTeJCg2Ss?si=SYUaya6XRIOsY1QRG0mnXw)

**SIMON**

When Baz comes down to the beach, I’m not ready for him. I’m not ready to face him, so say what I’ve been thinking since we got to this bloody beach hotel. I feel too vulnerable, too sun-slowed, half-baked. 

At first it’s like always, the two of us teasing, bantering, It feels nice. It feels normal. 

And then I  _ have _ to go and ruin it, by bringing our problems back to the surface. We were so  _ good _ this week, up until the end. The Ren Faire, the getaways. I felt alive and real and  _ there _ , not like I’ve been feeling since the Humdrum opened a hole in my belly and dumped all the magic out. Penny used to say I  _ was _ magic. 

What am I now, then?

Baz’s face has flushed as much as it can. He looks like he’s in pain, and it hurts.  _ I _ did that to him. I’m hurting him.  _ Again. _

“Baz, you wouldn’t have to hide anymore!” It’s almost a shout, my hands scrabbling angrily at the sand below me. It slips through my fingers.

“I’ll always have to hide! So will you!” Okay,  _ ouch. _ He must see the look on my face, because something in him softens. 

I don’t: “Why can’t you just admit you’d be happier there?”

“Why can’t you see that I wouldn’t be happy anywhere without you?”

It’s like the world stops, then. Of all the things we’ve said to each other, all the things we are, this is what hits me hardest. Because I’ve always made him miserable. Or so it seemed, I guess. Yes, there were all those times when he’s soften to me, like melty butter, and lay in my arms or look at me like I was the sun, all the times he kissed me like I was his air. But he’s always been like this: on and off. He’ll have me against the wall, and I won’t know whether it’s to kiss me or hit me.

And now, he’s saying I make him  _ happy? _

“Simon…” He whispers it, and I almost don’t hear it over the waves beside us. I’m not looking at him, and I can’t look at him, so instead I focus on a rock a ways down the shore. The waters dash it, and it wobbles in place, but stays upright.

“Baz…” I echo, and I don’t get it, this, what he’s saying,  _ us _ , but I don’t want to let it go either. I think of him in the Catacombs fifth year, drunk out of his mind on cheap beer and rat blood, crying by his mother’s tomb. I think of that time he sent a chimera after me, then stayed to help me fight it. Him singing to the dragon, before the truce, before all of this. Him turning away from Lamb’s offer of a drink, a  _ real _ vampire drink. Of him downing the birds in desperation instead. 

I think of the smell of cedar and bergamot, and his stupid pretty face after a winning match on the pitch. I think of Mordelia, tugging on my arm at Christmas, right before I sucked the magic from her home. 

I think of the Crucible, one of the oldest traditions in the World of Mages, never wrong; I can still feel the pull in my belly, that hook dragging me up the line. To Baz, always to Baz.

“Baz, I- Are you sure?”

He startles, like he wasn’t sure I’d continue at all. Neither was I.

“Crowley, Snow. Yes of course I’m sure. I’ve spent the last ten years obsessing over you, I’m pretty fucking sure-”

“You called me Simon before.” It’s habit, really, to point it out. He’s done it often enough now. Mostly when we’re being soft or when he forgets to be a prat. But the way he says it now, desperate and pleading, makes it sound more important. Bigger.

“Did not, and is that really what you’re focused on right now?” I can tell he’s trying to be angry, but the tip of his lips quirk up the slightest bit. 

“Always.” I reply, sitting up in the sand. I don’t think we’ve fixed anything yet, but this is easy again. “Did you mean it?”

He blinks, like he’s trying to remember what he said. But it comes to him, and he’s on his knees in the sand across from me. “Of course I did. I’ve made that clear enough, haven’t I?”

I shrug. Baz says I shrug more than I talk. 

“Merlin, Snow. Of course I meant it. I… you know I love you, don’t you?”

It’s my turn to blink, to be silent.

“You  _ do _ know that, right? You’re all I think about, Simon. Where you are, what you’re doing, if you’re alright, what I can do to make you smile. Or shrug. Or laugh. Or pout. I love you so much I want to spit.”

I try to raise my eyebrow in that way of his, and he laughs. 

“Yes, I know. Gross. But I’m disturbed, ask anyone.” I like his laugh, but he stops to look at me seriously again. “Simon…  _ Snow. _ Darling, love, you… I adore you.” I can hardly hear it, but he’s leaning in so close and I can  _ feel _ it, dusting across my lips. 

I can hardly breathe, “Baz,” I murmur again, and then I’m kissing him, but just barely. I  _ like _ kissing him. And one of his hands is on my neck, fingers sliding against me. 

He pulls away first, pushing his forehead against mine, eyes still closed. Mine aren’t; I’m busy watching him. 

“You’re all I think about, too. Since I met you. It’s annoying, really.” He laughs, and I can feel the thrum of it under my fingertips, pressed to his shoulder. I want him to laugh again, louder.

When he brings his face away, he’s crying a little, and I’ve never seen Baz cry. It’s beautiful, in a sad way. I want to brush the tears away. I don’t.

“I don’t want to leave you, ever.” He tells me.

“I don’t want to either. But… you’d be better off-”

His hand comes up, slapping against my mouth. “Shut up, Snow. I’d be no better anywhere else. I’m best by your side, always have been.” I try to push his hand off, but he clamps it harder. “Listen to me, Simon. I’m not going anywhere. You can’t make me.” I lick his hand, and he leans back. “Snow! That’s disgusting.”

I can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up then, because he doesn’t want to go. He  _ doesn’t want to go. _ He wants to be right where he is.  _ With me. _

And then he’s laughing too, and the tears are happy ones, and maybe I’m going to cry too. But then Penny comes barrelling down the beach, shouting Baz’s name. He scrambles to his feet, catching her by the shoulders.

“There’s trouble at Watford.”

_ We can't stay in America _

_ You can be free in America _

_ But I'm sick of listening to everyone _

_ I just want you, oh _

**Author's Note:**

> [join the discord! talk to me!](https://discord.gg/eAetgQg)   
[find me on instagram eyes emoji](https://www.instagram.com/snowbaz_twitter_au/)   
[or find me on tumblr!](https://angryjane.tumblr.com/)


End file.
